


The Voice of an Old Friend

by meikari



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Ghost TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), President Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29360133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meikari/pseuds/meikari
Summary: "So... you really don't remember?"
Comments: 3
Kudos: 70





	The Voice of an Old Friend

“So... you really don’t remember?”

A breeze swept gently over the scene as two young boys sat on a bench overlooking a large cliff. One held his hands in his lap and reached up every now and again to adjust his red tie, a garment that was passed down to him and barely fit him. It reminded him of better times. The other seemed monochrome - a silent, grayed-out figure placed in a world of loud, screaming color that deafened him wherever he walked. Every second of silence between the two made them more uneasy.

“I don’t.” The gray boy adjusted his legs into a criss-cross position and locked his glare on the grass in front of him.

“When you died,” the other asked, lip quivering - “you weren’t happy, were you, Tommy?”

The moments of quiet teared at Tubbo’s heart.

“If I was happy when I died,” Tommy let out a lifeless sigh. “I wouldn’t have trouble remembering you.”

“But that’s the thing!” The young president jumped in his seat, a tear streaming down his face with ease. “I’ve done horrible things to you! I  _ exiled _ you, Tommy! You should remember me, that’s how it works!” He sniffled and calmed himself down. “You felt agony when you died. Those are the moments you should remember.”

“I supposed you haven’t caused me pain then.” 

Tubbo’s mind, which previously raced, seemed to settle a bit. He unclenched his teeth and let down his hands back into his lap. Gazing out to the sky in front of him, he tried to blink back his tears to get a better glimpse of the stars.  _ He forgives you. You let him die, and he forgives you. _

“What happens next?” Tommy finally broke his stare at the ground and whipped his head to face Tubbo. “Now that I’m, well, you know, uh...” His voice trailed off. There was no joke he could crack to relieve the tension of the moment.

“I wish I knew.” He continued to lay his focus on the stars. They’d always made him feel better; knowing the people he’d looked up to and loved saw the same stars as him was the most comforting part of it. Even himself, in the past, present, and future, would look up to those same stars, no matter what. They seemed to be the only constant in his life.

He relaxed his shoulders just a little. Leaning back, he let the stars’ narrative take him in. His memory flashed back to a better time - Pogtopia, the ravine, the buttons, things that felt like not so long ago. He never thought he’d consider that to be easier than the events that followed. It all seemed so clear - the tunnels, the bunker... and one memory in specific. From inside that ravine. He’d been sitting on the edge of the stairs when Tommy had blurted out something aimlessly.

“When I’m dead, I don’t want to join them.” he’d exclaimed. To Tubbo, it was as if he’d been possessed - they’d been joking just minutes before.

“What are you on about?” Tubbo had inquired.

“Life after death. Those guys. I don’t want anything to do with them.”

Tubbo had tilted his head sideways in this memory, an action which he replicated in the present-day. As he dragged his focus from the sky, he turned to face Tommy. “No, no, I  _ do _ know.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“We have to run. We gotta get out of here.” The boy stood up. “And we can’t say goodbye either, we just have to go.”

“But what if they still need you here?” 

“That would be unreasonable. They’ve already lost use in me.” As he carried on with his sentence, Tubbo’s voice got lower. He stood himself firmly on the ground and looked at Tommy once more. “Come on.”

The ghost sat for a moment, letting another meaningless breath escape. He struggled to remember a single thing he could say to this guy to calm him down. Already, he wanted to go back to being alive. He liked himself much better then. “I have to think about it.” Turning his head towards the jukebox, he lowered his voice volume significantly. “Can we listen to one of the discs?”

Tubbo began to say something, about to fight him on this, but he let himself go. He nodded barely noticeably. 

“You can choose, if you want.”  
  
He reached over to one of the discs that lay flat on the jukebox and shuffled around in the pile for a moment, being sure not to scratch either of the CDs. The disc he chose was lined on the inside with a solid red plastic. He slided it gently into the slip in the middle of the box and sat himself back down neatly beside his friend. The sounds of the disc filled the air, naming itself as it went. _Chirp_.

“This one’s your favorite. I remember that.” Tommy cringed at himself. Despite his ghostly, screwed-up memory that pertained to his inability to be truly himself again, he still held his standards on conversation. 

“It is, indeed,” A slight grin appeared on the president’s face. It was if he had already forgotten the exchange just moments beforehand. His mind was lost in the song. Mindlessly, he let his memory take him back once again. This time, it was Old L’Manberg. The walls, the camarvan, the battles... it was all here. It had stayed, but it had changed so much.

As he recalled more and more, Tubbo recoiled a bit. L’Manberg felt like home - a feeling he could never recreate with New L’Manberg despite all of his efforts. Since then, he’d been a rogue, a spy, and the president of a nation corrupted and doomed to fail. In the end, it was his fault, he’d decided. But there wasn’t much he could do about it. The empty thought reassured him.

He flipped his focus to the figure next to him - Tommy. Instantly, his weak smile dropped. The gray of Tommy’s new ghostly appearance seemed to stab into him. If he had just taken more time out of his day, just gained up the courage to do something, to  _ say _ something, Tommy wouldn’t be dead. They’d both be alive, and they’d run the country together like it was meant to be run. Looking back to the sky, Tubbo was reminded of the scaffold upwards outside Logstedshire. He made his best effort to blink back his tears, but they were already running out. It could’ve been prevented. This didn’t have to happen.

Slamming his eyes shut, Tubbo studied the darkness in front of him. 

_ What have I done? _

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi hi!!!
> 
> thank u very much for reading it means the world to me <3
> 
> as always all kudos/comments are super duper appreciated!! constructive criticism is also welcomed :)


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